…a small still voice
inside
whispers
delicately and definitively
stand up,
Rise.
The worst is over.
Like the Phoenix
from the smoldering ashes
you are meant
to again
spread your wings,
Fly.
For unto the world,
your gifts to bring;
God’s Light to shine;
and of only One Love
to all
re-mind.
What does it take
to be A Light in the World,
to accept the sacred invitation
to truly make flesh The Word?
A sprawling, often lonely,
task
that will inevitably
ask
the removal of all human
masks.
There’s no hiding,
only faithfully abiding;
Seeing the world
differently;
expanding consciousness to foreign
possibilities,
such as loving all brothers
unconditionally.
One will need to forgive,
to always relieve grievances.
No space for judgment and blame,
for pettiness and thoughts criminally insane.
Only the remembrance that we are all
fundamentally
the same.
A formidable call
to be A Light in The World,
to sow seeds of peace
in the Minds of the All.
Not for the faint-hearted, this role.
Indeed, many flounder and fall,
the ones who think themselves insignificant
and very small,
who know not how
to stand erect and tall.
Much is given to A Light in the World.
This path, once chosen,
one does not walk alone.
Vision, wisdom and extraordinary might,
all bequeathed to A Light,
all needed to keep up the human fight
that rages
within and without
day and night.
A Light
ultimately
returns home, to Love
remembers its function
is guided
only
by things holy and Above.
It is Monday,
a blank page,
a clean slate.
The day to exfoliate,
slough off the old skin,
the things that weigh down
and only deaden.
It is Monday,
the start of a new week,
bringing with it
opportunities to seek
the Light and beauty
in all we meet.
It is Monday,
a day of reflection
to answer the questions
for self-manifestation.
We ponder in silence
asking our God for His Guidance.
My Lord,
what to sow?
who to know?
when to go?
where to grow?
why so slow?
It is Monday,
the time to do over
to try again
for that four-leaf clover.
Another chance
to alter one’s circumstance,
to self-enhance
and awake from long trance.
A new treat,
this here, Stone Beach.
Butterflies,
Dragonflies.
With a gentle sweet high,
I am kissing
the brilliant
baby blue sky.
Seagulls,
Marigolds.
I am embraced by the sea’s
gentle pull.
Driftwood,
Seashells.
I fall deeply into
water’s seductive spell.
Inhaling deeply,
I take in the air’s
musky salinity,
mix it with Earth’s grassy femininity.
Senses heightened,
I hear the waves,
my ancestors guiding me
from the grave.
I feel the wind
nibble my skin,
tempering
the sun’s bite and sting.
A Spirit
to me
suddenly
begins to sing.
Inspiration heralding
the birth of another offspring.
On the sixth day in the month of September of the year 2005:
A cell phone rings.
“It is your father,”
says the somber mother
to the busy daughter.
“He has been taken
to hospital…a stroke.”
Eleven years ago,
my Pop transitioned;
he left body
and went to Heaven.
One is never prepared for death-
especially that of a parent.
You know it will come eventually,
makes sense intellectually;
a matter to run from emotionally.
The day before he was to die,
he kept calling my cell line.
Over and over, he tried.
too tired and busy was I.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,”
I thought, fully justified;
not knowing he would not then
be alive.
Did Pop sense
his time had come?
Is there something he needed to tell
his eldest one?
What did I miss in
missing his call?
Did he go
thinking
I cared not at all?
Along with grief,
from guilt I found little relief.
Over and over,
in my mind,
I wrestled with my use of time.
Questioned my responsibilities:
Were they aligned with my priorities?
Eleven years later,
older,
a tad wiser,
I can begin
to myself forgive.
We do our best
in the moments we live.
Perfection, not the final goal.
Missteps, falls –
a part of it all.
Lessons learned
in his life and death-
Thank you Father!
No more regrets.
Walking around
the City streets,
this piece of graffiti
I repeatedly meet.
It reads
to me:
Protect your Heart.
“Why?”
I wonder.
“Is such a thing
even possible?”
I ponder.
Is not
The Heart
meant
to be used,
broken open
and well spent?
Le Cœur,
it will never relent,
nor exhibit
sustained discontent,
doing that
for which
it was sent.
The grand design,
the clear intent
for us to be truly,
in life, content.
Strong and resilient,
The Heart,
also very smart,
crafted this way
from the very start.
Unlike a piece
of rare fine art,
The Heart
is not made
to be placed
on a wall
deemed too delicate
to fall.
No, no, no, no, no!
Not at all!
I contend
to me and friends:
Lay bare,
Le Cœur,
even as scared,
it’ll take you there,
that place,
that divine space
where only
COURage makes.
transitory,
therein lies
the Human story.
here, in Body,
one minute;
gone, the Spirit,
next.
only just enough time
to be
seen
unwind
connect
affect
before,
in a quick breath
with stunning haste,
form
vanishes,
it dissipates.
Dawn of a new day-
hooray!
Awake!
Give thanks!
Pray!
As within,
so without.
Morning meditations
strengthen thy House.
No perceived stress felt.
Mind, heart, body –
all aligned,
all in exquisite rest.
Work flows smoothly.
Everything moves so easily.
All that is seen is beauty,
even in this, the
big
busy
City.
No cacophony,
just sweet melodies.
No hurry,
only curiosity.
Frowns turned upside down;
smiles abound.
Gratitude, shared and found.
I see you, you see me.
Namaste,
we are a family!
No self-recrimination,
no regrets;
only admission
one did one’s best.
And so,
the stage is set
for when
dusk is met.
Peaceful sleep
will thee meet
with this day complete.
such is when
Kindreds meet.
Deep calls unto Deep
when one cannot sleep
there is a yearning
as one is tossing
and turning.
Inside,
the child weeps.
Deep calls unto Deep
A dearly departed
snatches your heart,
tears it tenderly apart,
then captures your Soul
to make forever
free and bold.
Deep calls unto Deep
A majestic old tree,
an elephant resplendent
in its quiet dignity,
wondrous seas,
birth of little babies,
the birds and the bees.
All miracles,
they are
as the moon and the stars.
Look up and about,
Nature beseeches,
life so sweet
and utterly brief.
Deep calls unto Deep
Eyes wide shut.
I’m sinking,
yet floating
deeper,
blissfully
into
Me.
With the descension
comes the ascension.
Light
unto
dark.
Sweet serenity
found
amidst
urban cacophony.
burgeoninc 